Endless sleep
by Slashers R Us
Summary: What happened to Clyde Bruckman? Warning: You must have seen the episode to understand this!


Just recently saw 'Clyde Bruckman's final repose' and I had to write something, _anything, _to live up to it's name. I think it was one of the greatest, maybe _the_ greatest, episode of X Files of all time.

* * *

The man approached Clyde Bruckman, brandishing the knife.

"No." The man faltered. "You don't kill me now."

"Why?"

"How should I know?" The man was slightly startled by the opening of the bathroom door, and the detective stepped out, the feeling mutual. As the detective grabbed for his gun, the man lunged at him, stabbing him squarely in the chest. As the man moved out of Bruckman's peripheral vision and into the bathroom, continuing to stab the detective, the psychic took this as his opportunity to make an escape. He rushed out the door and down the hotel hallway.

As he stepped outside, he breathed the fresh air he was denied in the dark and closed-in hotel room. He began to walk down the street, starting down toward the Tarot Reading building where he knew Mulder and Scully were currently investigating the recent murder of the owner of the place.

A man with sharp features accompanying a woman with a more motherly look brushed past Bruckman, accidentally touching his hand.

And he caught yet another glimpse of Hell.

Terrance Preston, age 32, would die of a brutal stabbing in two days by a criminal who killed 6 people prior. It did make sense, though. Preston was a lawyer and was about to convict this criminal.

His wife of seven years, Tabitha Preston, wouldn't be able to take his passing.

Bruckman watched as she climbed, naked, into the bathtub, grabbed the knife she had placed at the side of the tub, and sliced her wrists.

Another blink of the eyes, and the same couple were walking by him, holding hands, blissfully unaware of their own fate in the next three days.

Bruckman jerked away from the two and leaned against a brick wall of a nearby building. He panted heavily and held his head in his hands.

'_God no! Why them?! Why me?!' _

"Sir, are you okay?" A young teenager with dark hair and a concerned look in her hazel eyes walked up to him. She placed her hand on his shoulder.

Marina Adams, age 17, looked up at him with fright and despair as a man of twice her age raped her, then finished her by strangling her with a long piece of wire that cut into her skin. She would be left in the alleyway to be found three days later.

Bruckman looked down at her with sympathy and a reflection of her own concern.

"Yeah kid, I'm fine. Just promise me something okay? Don't go down any abandoned alleyways for a shortcut to home alright?" Marina nodded, confused, and backed off as Clyde Bruckman walked off.

"What a strange man." She muttered to herself as she took her daily shortcut home down the alleyway.

The former destination Bruckman had in mind had completely vanished. He made his way toward his house.

'_Why did this ever happen? I don't want to live the rest of my life watching other people die. I can't take it.' _

His regular pace sped up. Soon Mulder and Scully would discover the dead detective and would wonder where he was. The first place they would go was his apartment, and since he had no ideas of changing his mind to _not _go there, he had to hurry if he was going to get there first.

**X**

Clyde Bruckman unlocked his apartment door and stepped inside, telling his late neighbor's dog to stay and taping his note to the door. Scully would find it, and she would definitely want the dog. She was that kind of person.

He rooted around in his pill drawer for his desired item. He cursed as he came up with nothing.

'_God dammit! When have I ever needed sleeping pills? Well, I guess there was that one time…' _He smiled to himself, and it widened as he finally came upon the bottle of sleeping pills. He grabbed the dry cleaning bag that lay on his bed and some scissors. The psychic cut the bag to a more adequate height. As he finished that, he filled a cup with water and downed two of the pills. He winced at the taste.

'_Even death won't make these damned things taste better.' _

The walk to his room was like an eternity. The clear plastic bag he carried was slick with sweat from his palm. Tears stung his eyes, and he let out a small sob as he entered his own room. The thing was, he wasn't crying because of what he was about to do. He was crying for Terrence and Tabitha Preston, and for Marina Adams, and for every other person who had died in his visions, only for the death to become real.

He sat on the bed, tears pouring from his eyes, and lay back, already feeling sleep tugging him into a blissful oblivion. Bruckman slipped the clear bag over his head and waited for the inevitable.

With his vision fading and his breathing slowing to an almost stop, he barely heard the front door open. As his heart stopped, though, he saw as Scully sat down next to him, compassion and sadness showing through her eyes.

And he suddenly felt as if, though things were still gray in some areas, everything was turning around for the world.

Hey, at least he still had his clothes, right?

* * *

This episode made me cry so much that my dad tried to tell me that the actor, Peter Boyle, wasn't really dead. He stopped after he realized that Boyle kind of is.

And this time, I had a musical inspiration! Last night, I watched Repo! The Genetic Opera. It was so freakin' awesome! I was listening to 'I didn't know I'd love you so much' when this story hit me in the face.

Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
